


Daredevil, but r76

by babevolio



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, At least not legally, Background Relationships, Canon-Typical Violence, Gabe is an overworked vet, Gen, Jack becomes Gabe's roommate, Jack is a wanted vigilante, M/M, McCree overuses petnames, McHanzo is Gabe's neighbor, Most of the medical stuff is me bullshitting, Multi, Oh god this is gonna be a clusterfuck, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Overwatch is not as bad, Talon is bad, Vets can't actually do the stuff Gabe does
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-01
Updated: 2017-10-01
Packaged: 2019-01-08 01:30:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12244503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/babevolio/pseuds/babevolio
Summary: Gabriel Reyes had a relatively good day. Work was uneventful, dinner was decent, the reruns on TV were tolerable, and he treated himself to some of his favorite ice cream before bed.Then Jesse McCree shows up at his door at 2:00 AM with a dying man slung over his shoulders, and everything just goes downhill from there.(That's how Gabriel Reyes meets Soldier 76.Not so coincidentally, that's also how his life becomes a clusterfuck of secret organizations, sharing his living space, patching up super soldiers, and shitty coffee.And maybe how he ends up falling in love, too.)





	Daredevil, but r76

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, so I've had this idea for months and finally decided to sit down and write up some stuff for it. My writing experience mostly consists of Twitter RP, so bear with me as I try to dust off my details and exposition abilities.
> 
> Still searching for an appropriate title, so for now it's just the file name I have it saved under.

The problem with Gabriel promising his shady neighbor -- and said neighbor's equally shady boyfriend --  that he'd occasionally patch them up in exchange for their wifi password and the occasional free meal, is the surprise visits at 2AM.

“Absolutely not. No. I'm not doing it.”

“Aw, c’mon, sugar. Look at the sorry bastard. He needs help, an’ I wouldn't trust nobody but you with him.” Jesse McCree, said shady neighbor, is standing on the porch of their shared duplex, clothes soaked in blood he claimed is from the man slung over his shoulders.

Gabriel only half-believes him.

“The agreement was that I'd take care of  _ you and Hanzo _ , not whoever the fuck this is. Do you want me to lose my license?” Gabriel asks incredulously, crossing his arms. It's unfortunately hard to look intimidating while still blinking sleep from his eyes, but he'll be dammed if he doesn't try. “Not to mention you haven't even told me where you found him, why he's injured, or--”

McCree cuts him off with more than a little exasperation in his voice. “Gabriel. Gabe. Gabi. Sweetheart. I'd love to tell you all’a that, but I can't out here in the goddamn front yard.”

_ And that's totally not suspicious at all.  _ Gabriel glares at McCree for a moment, searching for some hint of... he didn't even know what, but all he finds is a desperate man with urgency in his eyes. And a heavily injured man bleeding out on him.

God damn it.

He sighs and moves away from the door, gesturing McCree inside. “If you get blood on my carpet, I'll kick your ass.” The noise of relief from the cowboy is mildly concerning, but Gabe continues, “Take him to the kitchen, I'll get the kit.”

McCree obeys with a, “Yessir,” closing the door behind him with his foot and heading for the kitchen. Gabe makes his way to the bathroom to retrieve the half-empty emergency kit kept under the sink, making a mental note to buy a new one.

By the time he enters the kitchen, McCree’s managed to clear off his kitchen island, and is in the process of hefting the dying guy onto the countertop. Gabe scowls, thinking something along the lines of, _I'm going to need more Lysol_ _ , _ and approaches.

“This man is heavier than he got any right t’be.” McCree wheezes, leaning on the marble counter. “You know when you’re carryin’ somethin’, and you ain’t realize how heavy it was until you set it down? Good lord.” Gabe doesn't bother responding, instead shooing the cowboy out of the way and taking his place at the counter.

“Shut up and help me get his clothes off. That leather is going to be a pain in the ass to work around, especially if he’s got bullets I need to dig out, or anything that needs stitches.” He pauses to appraise the man on his counter, trying decide which items of clothing could be left alone and which had to go. 

His leather jacket has been sliced open on the side, revealing a mess of skin and blood, and there’s bullet holes dotting it, too. The man’s dark cargo pants are smeared in mud  _ and  _ blood, and he has enough pouches and straps around his hips, torso, arms and thighs to carry everything but a kitchen sink with him. All in all, he looked like some sort of shitty comic book hero, except one that was still in the vigilante phase, and hadn't--

Actually, wait a fucking minute, is this guy-- 

“Jesse McCree, did you bring a fucking wanted vigilante  _ into my house? _ ” 

McCree looks him right in the eye as he says, “I might've, yeah.”

Gabriel nearly lunges across the island counter to strangle the hairy bastard.

“I’m going to kill you someday, Jesse, I swear to god.” He hisses instead, viciously pointing a finger at him.

McCree just grins at him, tilting his dumb dusty cowboy hat down to hide his eyes, the way he always does when he's trying not to laugh. What an asshole.

“No offense pumpkin, but while I’m sure you’re perfectly capable of it, you an’ I both know you like me too much to try.” McCree probably couldn’t sound more smug if he wanted to. Gabe hates it, and that he’s right. He’ll just have to remember to not be so gentle the next time Jesse needs him to reattach something.

“That’s not the point. You can’t just bring a  _ known and wanted vigilante _ into our house, Jesse! Are you forgetting your promise to keep whatever the hell you and Hanzo are involved with _out there_?” Gabriel asks, just a few notches short of frantic. He grabs a pair of kitchen scissors from a drawer, and goes back to begin cutting away some of said vigilante’s clothes and straps. No way he’s moving this guy more than he has to with how severe his wounds must be.

McCree has the decency to look guilty, at least. “I know, Reyes, but--” He sighs, and lifts a gloved hand to rub at his face. “...Just trust me on this. Ain’t no police gonna come knockin’ on your door, not with... not with the mess we left for them.”

Gabe’s hands pause in their work, and he looks up at the cowboy.  _ Really _ looks at him.

His face is dirty, and there’s a bruise blooming across his right cheekbone. Jesse’s serape, normally kept pristine, is covered in mud and dust, along with blood. Upon closer inspection, there’s bullet holes at one edge of the treasured red and gold fabric. Gabriel feels his stomach drop.

“... Jesse, what did you do?”

McCree’s expression changes from tired to unreadable in a heartbeat. “Would you be willin’ to wait for my buddy here to wake up before I go explainin’ it all, darlin’? I don’t know what information he’s comfortable with me sharin’.”

Gabriel goes quiet for a few moments, moving the cut straps and fabrics out of the way while he considers his options. Jesse wordlessly opens the medical kit and offers it to Gabe, who immediately goes for the gloves and bottled saline solution.

On one hand, he could demand answers, then possibly end up in some kind of “you know too much so I have to kill you,” situation like in the movies, or possibly learn things even his questionable morals wouldn’t allow him to keep quiet about. On the other, he could wait, and risk the possibility of the vigilante disappearing, and McCree clamming up because of it.

Both of them were shitty options.

“... I’ll wait. But McCree,” He begins the daunting task of cleaning the vigilante’s chest, just so he can actually  _ see _ his wounds, “You better not make me regret this.”

The relieved look in the cowboy-wannabe’s eyes is enough for Gabe to know he probably made the right decision.

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think so far (eye emoji)
> 
> Find me on [Twitter!](https://twitter.com/akandriel?s=09)


End file.
